


take me home

by deadbrave



Series: hbo war ditties [3]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadbrave/pseuds/deadbrave
Summary: Tonight just happened to be one of the special evenings where Eddie allowed an audience to gather around him, sat atop possibly the only comfortable rock on the entirety of the island (Eddie had a knack for locating such things, however luckless he claimed to be), long, nimble fingers plucking at the strings of his guitar with the ease that he’d always plucked the strings of Andy’s heart. Eddie had already been swarmed by a mass of the men in their charge in various states of undress due to the suffocating heat of the tropical climate, even at such a late point of the evening.
Relationships: Andrew A. "Ack-Ack" Haldane/Edward "Hillbilly" Jones
Series: hbo war ditties [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080623
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	take me home

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i'm aware that this song didn't exist yet, no i don't care. we stick by our cherry-picked historical inaccuracies and die like men for somewhat domestic andyeddie. 
> 
> entirely inspired by the song Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver.

There was no time that Eddie appeared more at home than when he dragged his old, battered, but well-loved guitar from its auspicious hiding place (that even Andy had no idea the location of, though he had a rough idea) and starting strumming the strings and singing quietly in that low, deep tone of his that seemed to soothe every single ache and pain throughout Andy’s body. Andy had never been particularly invested in music before; he wasn’t an animal, of course, he enjoyed music well enough when melodic sound emanated throughout the space he was occupying, but he didn’t actively seek it out until he’d heard Eddie play. 

Pavuvu was the most relaxation that K Company had seen since Melbourne, and most of the boys were wise enough to soak up what little free time they were allotted, which most of the time coincided with the evening. It was more common now than ever before to hear the sharp, twangy tones of the company’s First Lieutenant around camp, and that warmed Andy’s heart far more than he’d care to admit out loud, least of all to himself. 

Tonight just happened to be one of the special evenings where Eddie allowed an audience to gather around him, sat atop possibly the only comfortable rock on the entirety of the island (Eddie had a knack for locating such things, however luckless he claimed to be), long, nimble fingers plucking at the strings of his guitar with the ease that he’d always plucked the strings of Andy’s heart. Eddie had already been swarmed by a mass of the men in their charge in various states of undress due to the suffocating heat of the tropical climate, even at such a late point of the evening. 

Snafu had claimed the spot closest to the Lieutenant, sprawled out much akin to a cat seeking amusement from its owner’s companionship, feet adorned in makeshift sandals that were stuck in the face of Bill Leyden, who was too enthralled by the performance to notice the stench, normal expression of unabashed rage filtered to something softer and far more human. It was almost frightening. Burgin was easy to spot in the sea of olive drab outfitted men, given a polite and respectable amount of space when others were not, sharp gaze honed in on the neck of the guitar. Idly, Andy wondered if the Sergeant played himself, embittered by the realization that wartime rarely spared room for any of the men to get to know one another on an actual personable level, aside from overused insults and skin deep observations, least of all for Andy to get to know any of the men in his charge. For the most part, he was scared that the effort would be wasted because it was likely that a great number of them would die--he had to keep a certain amount of distance so that the sad actuality would not consume him. 

Jay’s head rested atop Burgin’s thigh and the lanky man appeared to be asleep, lulled into much-needed rest by the talent displayed by Eddie. In a normal situation, the sight might bring an endless amount of teasing to the private, but the men of K Company were as reluctant to bring on Burgin’s wrath as they were to Eddie’s, so thankfully, no cruel words interrupted the performance, all eyes solely on Eddie, which was abnormal for the man who shied away from attention, lingering in the shadows of those that he cared for. 

Sledge sat a distance away, pencil poised in his fingertips, though he occasionally glanced up to watch Eddie play with a small smile on his lips, seeking the comfort of the music while remaining on the fringes of the group, not yet comfortable with K Company on the whole, not as amiable to it as Leyden was. Eugene looked up as Andy approached, his smile growing as the Captain decided to sit beside him underneath the palm tree he was propped against, resting his aching muscles with a tired sigh. “Evenin’, Cap’n.” 

“Hey, Sledge,” Andy replied amicably, giving the lanky marine a smile of his own before his gaze returned to the sight of Eddie in his element. Perhaps in another life, Eddie was able to pursue his talent further, wasn’t forced to fight in a war that was crueler than imaginable. Maybe in another universe, they could be together without the fear of death, a constant figure looming over their shoulder. In some time, someplace, far away from Pavuvu, Eddie and Andy would be allowed some modicum of happiness, more than quiet moments like this; Eddie’s gaze met Andy’s over the fire and crowd and a rush of heat consumed the Captain. Andy couldn’t hide his grin. 

_“Country roads, take me home. To the place, I belong. West Virginia, mountain mama. Take me home, country roads.”_


End file.
